


Butter Side Up

by cucumber_of_doom



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Male Lactation, Mentions of Pregnancy, Omega Will, Will Doesn't Care, Will Knows, Will is a little sass-muffin, cooking with human breast milk, milk is only used for culinary purposes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 15:36:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6085206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cucumber_of_doom/pseuds/cucumber_of_doom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Omega!Will produces way more milk than their son can drink. Hannibal finds alternative uses for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Butter Side Up

**Author's Note:**

> All I wanted to was to make a cannibal joke, then it turned into roughly 3k of weird shit. It just happened.

Will curses under his breath as he gently lays his sleeping son down in the gleaming, wooden crib next to their bed. It is a beautiful, sturdy thing he and Hannibal had picked out together, but right now Will can't appreciate how well it fits in with the rest of the furniture in their bedroom. His chest hurts and he is exhausted from too little, constantly interrupted sleep. It has been merely a week since Alexander Graham-Lecter came into this world and Will already doesn't know how he will make it through the next few years. Or the next few hours if the little one doesn't get hungry anytime soon.

“Goddamn it, I'm leaking all over the place,” he mutters, raking a hand through his messy hair and lets himself fall back onto the soft mattress. It is that moment Hannibal walks in from the hallway, casual in nice jeans and a soft sweater, having taken some time off work to care for his mate and newborn son.

“Do you need to change your pads?” Hannibal asks, voice low as not to wake their infant son. Will scowls up at him and sighs. He hasn't had a decent nights sleep in weeks and it shows in the dark circles beneath his eyes and the fact that he still hasn't bothered to change out of his pajamas. Not since he came back from the hospital, actually. He would be embarrassed if he wasn't tired and in pain. 

Will bites his lip, thinking, then sits up.

“You know what? Fuck the pads and give me the pump. I'll try it. Alexander isn't to drink anytime soon anyway and I am done with this,” he says, turning his head to face his husband. Hannibal merely nods, clearly having waited for Will to ask.

Will pulls the damp shirt over his head with grim determination while his husband goes to fetch the breast pump from where it is stashed in the bathroom cabinet. The tight, padded nursing top – which he refuses to call a bra - is next and Will rubs gently at his aching chest. The swelling is barely visible, like it is supposed to be, but damn if it doesn't hurt when too much milk builds up and it seems like it always does. Will produces enough milk to feed at least another child but they only got Alex and the little boy can't possibly drink everything Will has to offer. So the pump it is.

Hannibal had bought the strange contraception weeks prior to delivery. Bastard. A thoughtfull bastard, but still.

After a minute Hannibal emerges from the bathroom, pump already out of its cardboard packaging and sits down next to his Omega.

“Let me help you,” he offers.

Will lets him and Hannibal maneuvers the thing onto his right nipple and presses the little button on the back. The rhythmical sucking feels all wrong but as soon as milk starts spilling into the attached clear container Will feels relief.

A blissed-out sigh escapes his lips as the pressure finally subsides. He'd never thought that lactating would be such a hassle. It was definitely nothing he had been warned about and Will refused to believe that he was being too sensitive. Soaking your shirt in milk not only sucked, it also started reeking after a while and his sense of smell still hadn't gone down to a pre-pregenancy level. He has no idea how Hannibal stands living like this all the time.

He leans against Hannibal's side when the man moves the pump to his other nipple and the feeling of relief repeats itself. 

He doesn't know how long they sit like this: him tucked against the other man's side, one of Hannibal's arms slung protectively around his shoulders while the other hand holds the pump in place. Its peaceful.

“Better?”

Will sighs again. He hates being the stereotypical, irrational and moody Omega, but also knows Hannibal won't judge him if he is. Not this shortly after giving birth, maybe not ever. If there is one thing Will does not doubt it's Hannibal's love. They are long past that point.

“Yes. Sorry for being an asshole. But it really hurts sometimes, you know?”

Hannibal smiles lovingly, dislodges the pump and gently wipes Will's chest with a clean silken handkerchief. 

“I know, Will. Let me put the milk in the fridge, just in case Alexander gets hungry when you are asleep. Then you do not have to get up.”

Will nuzzles into the crook of Hannibal's neck, taking in his calming scent.

“Thanks.”

They stay like that for a few minutes longer, Alex sleeping an arm's-length away from them. When he is a bit older they will move his crib into the nursery but not yet. For now, everything is fine and as soon as his appetite grows, Will won't have to deal with excess milk. At least he hopes so.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Over the following weeks Will gets used to sleeping no more than a few hours at a time, becomes a pro at changing diapers and his senses go back to normal. The latter is a blessing. 

Feeding Alex at all hours becomes routine and Hannibal returns to work, if not full-time yet. One thing that doesn't change for the better is problem with his milk. It's not that Alex doesn't drink enough – he does – but more that Will's body doesn't want to accept that there is only one child to feed. There is simply too much milk for Alexander to drink and Will becomes painfully accustomed to the breast pump. Hannibal's and their OB/GYN's reassurance of this being nothing to worry about are of little help to him.

The milk keeps building, his nipples keep leaking and aching and the fridge fills with little bottles and jars of excess milk. It's annoying, but there is nothing to be done about it.

Nothing effective at least, because of course Will tries the milk at one point. He is curious and it's not like there isn't enough left for his child to bathe in. He looks around and – when he finds himself unobserved – takes a sip from the newest bottle. It's still warm - which is weirder than it should be - and sweeter than expected. Not bad.

Curiosity sated he screws on the lid, puts the bottle in the fridge with the rest and goes about his day. He doesn't think of it any further.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-

 

It's a few days later that Will learns it was only the beginning.

Hannibal and him settle in the living room one rainy afternoon, Hannibal coaxing the fire to life, then excusing himself to the kitchen to fix each of them a hot drink. Will sits down on the plush couch next to the fireplace, Alex in his arms, some of the dogs lying down near the fire. The boy is half asleep already and the added warmth makes him finally nod off.

Will couldn't be more content. He breathes in the sweet baby-smell. Lovely and innocent with no hint of what his secondary gender might turn out to be. Babies are precious like that and theirs is no exception. He places Alex in a secure little nest he builds out of pillows and blankets next to him so there is no chance of the boy falling down to the floor. Will would never forgive himself if something happened to their child.

Hannibal returns a few minutes later with a mug of dark, steaming hot chocolate in each hand. He sits down with their son between them, smiling softly down at the sleeping boy. 

Will cradles the warm mug between his hands and after a while carefully drinks some. The chocolate is rich, slightly bitter from the real chocolate Hannibal insists on using. But beneath the familiarity there is a sweet tang he has encountered before. Will narrows his eyes, looking suspiciously first at Hannibal, then back to his hot chocolate and finally back to Hannibal.

“Did you use my milk to make this?” he asks bluntly, licking a stray drop of bittersweet liquid from his upper lip. Hannibal tries not to look smug, but it is not enough to fool his husband.

“I did. What made you notice?”

Will isn't mad; human breast milk isn't the most ethically controversial ingredient used in their kitchen, after all. He is still annoyed Hannibal didn't ask him first.

“It tastes familiar,” he drawls, delighting in the subtle look of surprise the statement brings to the other's features. It's nice having the upper hand once in a while. The Alpha's pupils go wide, clearly imagining a way more lewd version of what happened in the kitchen a few days ago. Will won't correct him unless directly asked. This is more fun. 

Will drinks again, reveling in the rich flavour.

“At least it less weird than you feeding me my own placenta. And don't tell me how it would be more natural for humans to do this on the regular: it is still weird.”

Hannibal recovers his composure remarkably quickly.

“I did not hear you complain after you gave birth,” he says, watching Will drink with fascination.

“You _are_ a rather good cook and it was better than the alternative. Hospital food could never compare. Thought it would have been better with garlic,” Will goes on like this conversation is nothing out of the ordinary. And it isn't, not for them. The moment he discovered the identity of the Chesapeake Ripper was, it was already too late to change his mind. They'd had a talk, a long one Will hadn't been entirely sure he would survive, but in the end he did. Then they married. And mated. He'd been in love with Hannibal before he figured it out and it hadn't changed a thing. He knew the fact said more about him than he was comfortable admitting.

“It's a nice touch to the hot chocolate,” Will ads and smiles when Hannibal leans across the space between them to kiss his cheek.

“I am glad you like it,” he says, voice as warm and smooth as their drink. “And that I did not overstep a boundary.”

“You didn't,” Will says and puts his mug on the low coffee table to kiss his husband some more.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

In hindsight, Will should have known the hot chocolate wouldn't be the end of it. Of course not. Hannibal's two favorite hobbies are cooking and doing ethically questionable things, so of course he does what he does. He also promised to not be reckless once Will became pregnant, which leaves him with less outlets for his favorite brand of creativity.

On Sunday morning Will manages to sleep in for once. Not without help from Hannibal but he takes what he can get this days where it comes to sleep and doesn't stir when Hannibal gets up at an relatively sensible hour and takes Alex with him. Will knows they will be fine. Hannibal is adorable with their son and Will drifts back off to sleep.

He pads down into the kitchen a few hours later, more awake now and ready to face the day. In the sunlit room he finds Alex babbling in his carrier and Hannibal in front of the stove, a cup of coffee next to him on the counter.

Will slides up behind his husband, wrapping his arms around him and presses a quick kiss to his lips.

“Good morning,” he mumbles, looking longingly at the cup of forbidden coffee. Its unusually milky.

He disentangles himself from Hannibal and opens the fridge to find the little bottles with pumped milk missing.

“Really, Hannibal? I know you don't drink milk in your coffee,” he asks with one eyebrow raised, hip leaning against the fridge door.

“Throwing out your milk would have been a waste,” Hannibal says like there is nothing creepy about any of this while he puts on the kettle to prepare Will's tea.

“So you decided to start using it as coffee creamer?”

“Naturally I cannot drink that much coffee, so I also used it in the pancakes,” he says as he pours the boiling water into a mug and lets the tea steep. Will doesn't stray from the topic, no matter how sweet the gesture.

„The pancakes,” he says.

“Indeed. Do you want fruit with yours? I could caramelize some apple slices,” Hannibal offers and starts forming little circles with the batter in the hot pan. Will narrows his eyes.

„Let me repeat: you managed to cook a cannibalistic version of a vegetarian dish. That's dedication, but also: why?“

“I have never before used human breast milk as an ingredient and simply cannot let an opportunity like this go by unused. It is also safe to say everyone presently in this room is quiet fond of the taste.”

Will resists the urge to throw his hands into the air.

“You are obsessed, Hannibal,” he says instead.

“I assure you, I am no more obsessed with you than usual.”

Will crosses his arms in front of his chest.

„Fine. In that case you are simply looking for a loophole to feed me and Alex anything human.“

„My dearest Will, it is not like he has never drunken your milk before. As you observed: feeding children is exactly what it is for. And of course he won't be getting pancakes. He is not ready for solid food yet. The pancakes are for us.“

Will points at him with his hand outstretched. He hasn't been awake for long enough to deal with the smugness he has to get up against. Also he is hungry.

„You win this round, Lecter, but the rule still stands. No human meat for the little one. He is not old enough to make that decision for himself and I don't want to be responsible for any future damage it might do him. And you neither, Hannibal.“

„I am always keeping my promises,“ he says, lifting Will's hand to press a kiss to his knuckles. Smarmy bastard.

“I'm not sure if I want to be disgusted or flattered.”

“There are many studies suggesting breast milk to possess health-benefits,” Hannibal starts but Will interrupts him.

“You are simply a creep. Playing up your medical degree doesn't help your case this time. It doesn't change the fact that you made human pancakes.”

“I also made butter,” Hannibal says smugly and Will groans.

“I take it back. You are an obsessed creep.”

Hannibal takes the metal tea-strainer out of the mug and hands the beverage to Will, who gladly takes it.

“Terrible,” Will teases. Terribly in love, he doesn't say and hides his smile behind his mug full of sweet smelling rooibos tea. Coffee is still a far-away dream. No caffeine while nursing, but he has gotten used to the alternatives.

“So, butter,” Will starts after sitting down at the breakfast table, watching his husband work at the stove. “How does one do that? I've honestly never thought of it as anything else than pre-packaged blocks from the fridge.”

“I simply used the mixer,” Hannibal explains while starting another batch of pancakes. “Churning butter with an electric mixer is – of course – not the traditional way to do it, but is way less time consuming while yielding the same results. I have also seen it suggested as a fun activity to do with children. I won't let Alexander be one of those children who think their food comes from the supermarket and shaking a jar with cream or whole-milk in it is something most children are capable of managing.”

Will sighs into his tea.

“That's all nice and noble but I don't think Alexander is yet aware his feet are actually connected to his body. It will be a long time before he is shaking any jars, with or without making butter in the process.”

Hannibal flips over the pancakes and starts starts cooking a few slices of bacon in a second pan.

“We have got all the time in the world,” he says and Will slowly turned his head towards him.

“Maybe, but I won't be nursing him until he starts school, Hannibal,” he says.

“But surely there will be a younger brother or sister by then.”

Will groans again, setting the mug onto the table with a thud. He needs his hands free or will spill hot tea over himself.

“Hannibal. We did not name our first child Alexander to give you the opportunity to go through the whole damn alphabet,” he starts and this time it is Hannibal who interrupts. He rarely does that and it is all the more effective for it.

“If you would please watch your language in front of our son? I don't want him to pick up any bad habits.”

Will scoffs.

“He can hardly lift up his head, it's too early for him to pick up swear words. And it's not the point anyway. The point is, that I won't keep spilling out babies for the sole purpose of you indulging in your culinary habits. I am all for you not doing anything that would get you arrested, but not at the expense of keeping me pregnant and spilling out milk.”

Hannibal turns off the stove and faces his husband.

“I am sorry if it sounded that way.”

Will watches him carefully, looking for any sign of insincerity. Hannibal wipes his hands on a towel, then divides the pancakes and the bacon on two plates.

“It surely did.”

“I apologize,” Hannibal says. He then takes both plates over to the little table Will is seated at. The smell coming off them is divine.

“Apology accepted,” Will says stiffly but can't keep the tiniest of smiles off his lips. “Where those kiddie-friendly butter-making-tutorials specifically for human milk or more general?”

“There is actually a surprisingly large online-community of parents, exchanging creative ways to use their excess milk. It gets a bit odd at times. There are recipes for everything from cottage cheese to soap.”

“'Human soap is odd', says the cannibal, eating his human pancakes with human butter and bacon, adding human milk to his coffee,” Will mumbles, playing with his fork, distracted by the tiny wrinkles appearing around Hannibal's eyes whenever the Alpha smiles.

“You are mocking me, Will.”

Will takes a piece of crisp bacon between his fingers and bites down. It's delicious and completely unethical.

“Darling, the day I stop mocking you is the day I stop caring. Now pass me the syrup, please,” he says sweetly. Hannibal hands him the glass bottle with the maple syrup, a thing Will started to crave during pregnancy and hasn't grown tired of yet.

Alex gurgles happily in his carrier, not a care in the world and the dogs are milling outside. His husband may be a weird, sometimes creepy cannibal, but Will wouldn't ask for anything else.

**Author's Note:**

> Objectively speaking, I have written a lot of stuff worse than this, but this fic is the first thing I have written in years that made me genuinely uncomfortable. What is it about using human milk for food that I find more disturbing than say, sawing off Gideon's legs and feeding them to him? That's n interesting thing to learn about yourself.
> 
> If you want to see me rambling about writing and a lot of random blogging, visit my [tumblr](http://cucumber-of-doom.tumblr.com/) because that's where the cool kids are.


End file.
